Therapy
by Chapin CSI
Summary: First, Dr. McCoy tried a little Group Therapy to deal with certain pesky crewmembers, including Kirk and Spock. Now, he decides that "Laughter is the best therapy". One problem: Mr. Spock never laughs.
1. Group Therapy

Therapy

I wrote this with DeForest Kelly in mind. I havent seen ST 2009 so I dont know if young McCoy gets to insult Spock like he used to do in TOS, but hey, we dont know what happens once the movie's over, right?

I must say, from the little I've seen of the film on Youtube, the cast is awesome!

* * *

Nurse Chapel picked a card from Dr. McCoys desk and looked at it.

"Pointers, Doctor?"

McCoy took the card from her.

"Dont start, Christine."

"I just cant believe you're resorting to Twentieth Century methods, Doctor. Group Therapy sounds so... so bogus. A few days in a solitary cell would work faster."

"We're not dealing with crimes here, Christine; 'Behavioral Problems' it's what Stafleet calls them, and they expect me to put an end to them."

"But shouldn't Captain Kirk be in charge? It's a disciplinary problem, after all."

McCoy sighed. "Unfortunately, the Captain is one of the men with a problem here."

"But are you sure this is the best way to deal with these men, Doctor? This method hasn't been used in centuries -"

"I needed a method that wouldn't involve punitive measures, Christine. Group Therapy, Role Play and plain common sense seemed good enough to me."

"And if all that fails, there's always electroshock," Christine said ironically, before turning away.

------

McCoy was satisfied with phase one of the session. He had timed his entrance perfectly. Too early, and the men would have felt he was rushing them; too late, and the men would have been bored.

He'd waited only long enough to make them squirm.

They certainly seemed relieved to see him come in. There were five of them, sitting in a semi-circle: the Captain himself; First Officer Spock; Lieutenants Trill and Quatto, and Ensign Vásquez -five men that, according to Starfleet Command, needed a stern 'wake-up' call.

"Good evening, Gentlemen," McCoy said briskly.

"Good evening, Dr. McCoy." And damn if they didn't almost sound like little schoolchildren.

McCoy smiled; they were looking at him with a mix of relief and apprehension. He was there, so the wait was over; on the other hand, he _was_ there, so there was no putting off whatever it was that was about to happen.

Only Spock seemed unperturbed by the whole thing.

"Gentlemen," McCoy said, "Welcome to our first Group Therapy session. I'd like to start by assuring you that no punitive charges will be brought to you, no matter what it's said here -"

"Really?" Quatto asked hopefully.

"Really," McCoy said benevolently. He covertly glanced at the card hidden in the palm of his hand, then looked up. "We are here to find solutions to your problems, so honesty is of the essence." He paused, letting those words sink in. "Now," he added. "You shall begin by introducing yourselves."

"Oh, we already know each other," Vásquez said.

"Yes, but it's a requirement of the therapy," McCoy said. "You are to stand up, state your name and the problem that we're here to discuss. And remember: rank doesn't count in this room, so you are not to mention it. Is that understood?" he glanced around. "Very well. Jim, let's begin with you."

"Why me? You said rank wouldn't count."

"You're the first to my right, Jim," McCoy said patiently. "You get to speak first."

"All right," Jim said resignedly. "My name's -"

"Uh, Jim, you've got to rise so everybody sees you."

"They can see me now!"

McCoy gave him a look. "Humor me."

"Fine." Jim rose, "My name is James T. Kirk, and I'm… I'm a…"

"Say it, Jim."

"I'm a…" Jim studiously stared ahead as he finally said, "I'm a Sexaholic."

"Very good, Jim."

Spock frowned.

"I thought it was bad."

"It _is_ bad," Bones said patiently, "But it's good that Jim has admitted it. Your turn, Mr. Spock."

Spock looked up.

"My _turn_, Doctor?"

"Your turn to get up and speak, Mr. Spock."

"There is nothing for me to say, Doctor."

"Yes, there is, Spock. Everybody has something to say in this meeting."

"I have yet to understand what the purpose of this meeting is."

"Well, Spock, if you wait a little while then maybe it'll become clear to you. Just let me remind you that you're all here voluntarily, and -"

"Not I," Spock replied, "I received a summons from your office -"

"Exactly. A summons from me, the Doctor in Chief of the -"

"You're pulling rank, Bones." Jim muttered under his breath.

"- ship," McCoy finished. "It means you've got to comply with anything I ask you to do. State your name, please."

"Very well." He rose. "My name is Spock."

The five men looked expectantly at him.

Spock looked back at each one of them in turn.

"Go on, Spock," McCoy hissed.

"With what, Doctor?"

"Tell us why you're here," McCoy said, his patience starting to run thin.

"You required my presence, Doctor."

"Spock, stop being so hard-headed and just tell us what your problem is!"

"_My _problem?"

"It was stated in the summons," McCoy said through clenched teeth. "Remember?"

"Indeed. But I fail to understand how meeting in a small room will be of any help to you."

McCoy closed his eyes.

"Spock, if you please? Just tell us why you were summoned to this meeting."

"Oh. Very well. My name is Spock, and Doctor McCoy believes I have a rage problem." He sat down.

"Spock, that wasn't exactly right; you should have said, 'I am Spock, and I have a rage problem."

"But I do not have a rage problem, Doctor."

"Spock? Have you forgotten the little scene you pulled on the bridge a month ago?"

"I do not pull little scenes, Doctor."

"Spock, you kicked the Captain's ass."

"Whoa, whoa," Jim said, "Spock didn't kick my ass!"

"The Captain is right, Doctor;" Spock said calmly, "My feet never came in contact with his gluteal muscles."

"You _mauled _him, Spock," McCoy said, ignoring the interruption. "It was under duress, I admit, but to the Starfleet Command, your reaction was excessive. The Command needs some reassurance that this won't be happening again."

"This won't be happening again," Spock nodded dutifully.

"Saying it doesn't count. You've got to get therapy. Being here and admitting out loud that you have a problem is the first step towards recovery. Go ahead."

"Go ahead with what?"

"Say it, Spock," Bones said, his patience stretching as far as it could go. "You have a problem with rage –just say it."

"But I cannot say something that I do not acknowledge as true."

"Uh, Spock?" Jim muttered. "The sooner you admit it, the sooner we'll all be leaving, so..." he motioned him to continue.

"Oh. Very well. My name is Spock, and I have a rage problem." He sat down.

"Good," McCoy said. "Next, please -"

"But it isn't true," Spock muttered.

McCoy glared.

"Mr. Spock, if you please? I'll give you a chance to explain, later."

"Thank you, Doctor."

McCoy looked at the Andorian sitting next to Spock. His naturally blue skin was blotchy with yellowish stains. He dutifully rose.

"My name is Trill, and I am addicted to the tanning machine."

"Very good," McCoy said. "Next."

Meanwhile, Jim glanced sideways at Spock.

"Just for the record," he muttered under his breath, "You didn't maul me."

Spock didn't reply.

"And you didn't kick my ass."

Spock stared ahead, imperturbably.

"You didn't even leave bruises," Jim said snidely, "If that was your best shot, then I -"

"Jim, for God's sake," McCoy burst out, "Stop taunting him!"

"Do not worry, Doctor," Spock said calmly. "Nothing he says will induce me to _kick his ass_."

"Hey!" Jim protested.

McCoy took a deep breath, counted to five, and then tried to smile benevolently again. He failed miserably, but he somehow managed to continue the meeting.

"Well," he said, "Now that we have introduced ourselves -"

"Doctor, if you please," Spock said, "You have not introduced yourself yet."

"But I'm the Doctor -"

"You also said we were not to mention rank."

"He's right, Bones," Jim said.

"And why are you helping him?" McCoy glared.

"Because he's right, you know; you haven't introduced yourself."

McCoy opened his mouth to utter a well-chosen retort, but thought better of it. With great effort on his part, he rose from his seat.

"All right, Spock, I'm gonna humor you. I am Leonard McCoy. Are you happy?"

Spock seemed surprised by the question.

"_Happy,_ Doctor?" Spock paused to consider. "Only mildly contented, I believe. 'Happy' implies a degree of gratification that could hardly be derived from a statement that has no personal connotation to me, or -"

"ALL RIGHT, THAT'S IT!" McCoy exploded, "I've heard enough from you, you… GREEN-BLOODED, POINTY-EARED -"

McCoy's next words never got to be said because he caught himself just in time, but it was obvious that he'd already said too much. The men's jaws had practically dropped at his outburst, (except Spock's, of course); and they were all staring at him -specifically, at the vein throbbing in his forehead. 'Little Angry Lenny', his ex-wife used to call it, and he knew by experience that it wasn't a pretty sight.

It was fortunate that they couldn't see the rush of adrenaline suffusing his body, or hear the wild beating of his heart... But they knew, all the same.

They _knew. _

Jim and Spock had deliberately baited him, and he didn't know what surprised him more: that he'd fallen for it, or that these two had managed to work together after being at odds for so long.

McCoy gulped.

"All right," he muttered in defeat. "All right, I get it." He rose from his chair, and said, "My name is Leonard McCoy and I have a problem with rage."

He sat down with some difficulty.

"You don't have a problem," Jim said casually. "You have a _temper._ There's nothing wrong with that."

"There isn't?" McCoy asked in surprise.

"Of course not. What do you think, Spock?"

Spock paused for a moment.

"Considering the pressure we put him under, I believe Dr. McCoy's reaction was -"

"- logical," Bones said, rolling his eyes.

"It was most certainly not logical, Doctor. But it was… what we expected it to be."

McCoy wiped the sweat off his forehead with the little card in his hand. "So." He tentatively looked around. "What do I do now? Starfleet expects me to send them a report."

"Just tell them we're doing fine," Jim said. "We don't want anyone to thwart our little, hum, idiosyncrasies, Doc. Life would be too dull without them."

* * *

The End


	2. Laughter is the best Therapy

Therapy

Part two

* * *

Doctor McCoy stepped out onto the street, took a deep breath, opened up his arms and proclaimed, to no one in particular, "Laughter is the best therapy!"

Behind him, Jim Kirk and Mr. Spock made no comment. They merely glanced at each other, and shrugged. Actually, Jim shrugged; Spock merely lifted an eyebrow.

Doctor's exuberant comment could be easily explained; they had spent the afternoon at the Anturian Improv Café, mecca of the galaxy's best comedians. His uninhibited mood, however, was entirely due to the generous amounts of Saurian Brandy he'd consumed in there.

"Follow me," McCoy said grandly.

Jim and Spock obeyed. They followed him silently through the maze of streets that made up Anturia's downtown, and didn't see reason to intervene till they saw McCoy purposefully avoiding the public transportation area.

"Uh, Bones? Where are you going?"

"Back to the hotel," McCoy said matter-of-factly, "Where else?"

Kirk caught up with him.

"Bones," he said, gently taking the Doctor's arm, "The shuttles are in the opposite direction."

"I know," McCoy said, pulling his arm away. "I'm not blind," he added belligerently.

"Doctor? Are you aware that by continuing this way you are purposefully leaving Anturia's more densely populated areas?"

"I most certainly am, Mr. Spock," the Doctor said, then mumbled, "For God's sake, I'm starting to sound like him." Aloud, he said, "For your information, I'm taking a shortcut."

"Oh, hell," Jim mumbled. He slowed down, hoping McCoy would too, but the Doctor merely went his way. Jim caught up with him again. Trying his kindest tone, he said, "Bones, it will take us hours to reach the hotel."

"I know."

"We barely know this place."

"I know enough," McCoy said, then added, "_'The city of Anturia's shaped like a U, with a vast woody expanse in the middle.'_ What else is there to know? We're going from one end of the U to the other –it's simple enough."

"While I do not doubt your sense of direction, Doctor," Spock said tentatively, "I must point out that it's rainy season."

"Well, it's not raining now." McCoy threw a casual glance over his shoulder and noticed his friends' reluctance. That made him stop. "Aw, come on, you two; a walk will do us good. Good, old-fashioned exercise under the twin moons of Anturia," and he tilted his head in the moons' direction. They weren't visible yet. McCoy shrugged. "Ok; a walk under the _sun_ of Anturia -it's just what _the doctor_ ordered. Besides -"

"Besides?"

"I'm drunk," McCoy said bluntly. "I can't face the crew like this. A walk will help me clear my head." And he crossed his arms. _End of discussion_, the gesture said.

"Oh, hell." Jim sighed, "Fine, Bones. We'll walk." He glanced at his First Officer, "Mr. Spock, if you please -"

Spock hesitated. "Captain, the locals advised us against taking the open roads after a rainstorm. They are virtually impassable -"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Oh, gee, Mr. Spock, so your boots will get a bit muddy -so what?" He shook his head. "You're just too straight-laced, Spock; that's the problem with you. Every hair in its place, pants creased with obsessive precision, boots shiny -"

Spock looked down at his clothes, obviously mystified by the comment.

McCoy laughed. He clapped Spock on the back, "Come on, Spock! Live a little! Jim, tell him it's ok to get dirty, will ya?"

"Tell him yourself," Jim muttered. He refused to get involved in those two's bickering. They enjoyed the banter -he did not. On the other hand, the idea of taking a walk in the woods had started to appeal to him. He'd certainly had enough of Anturia's deficient transportation system. "I don't see why we shouldn't walk, though," he said.

"But Captain -" Spock started, then realized he was one against two now. Resigned to his fate, he straightened up. "Very well."

"Cheer up, Spock!" McCoy said. "What's the worse that can happen?"

---

Walking was difficult. The rain had turned the local chalky soil into mud -slippery in the areas that were still wet, sticky in the areas that were starting to dry.

McCoy didn't mind. In fact, he seemed delighted by his own difficulties.

"It's like trying to walk with giant wads of wet chewing gum stuck on your soles," he said happily.

Jim was piqued.

"How come you're so ebullient today?"

"I had a great time at the Improv," McCoy said, "My ribs are still aching from all the laughter."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Is pain considered a positive outcome, Doctor?"

"In this case, it is, Mr. Spock. UNLESS YOU'RE A CORIDIAN!" he suddenly yelled, and he pointed at Jim just a fraction of a second after Jim yelled and pointed at him too, and then they both burst out laughing.

Spock watched the exchange with something close to bewilderment. He'd heard those words and seen those same gestures over and over in the past week or so, and he still couldn't understand what they meant. Or why they were considered funny in the first place. He knew Coridans weren't exactly popular in the Federation, which made them fair game -just as Anchovians and Orkans had been till they joined the Federation. Even Vulcans had, at some point, been the object of ridicule too.

Spock shuddered to think of a time when, according to history records, every joke seemed to refer to Vulcans' ears and hairdos, and the size of their genitals. Spock shook his head almost imperceptibly. There was nothing laughable about Vulcans' hair and ears. As for their genitals -well, why should massive endowment be considered funny?

He was pondering this when he McCoy spoke again.

"You know, Jim… I've never seen Spock laugh out loud. Have you?"

Jim only smiled. He was firmly determined not to get drawn into a Spock/McCoy debate.

McCoy glanced sideways at Spock.

"Why is that, Spock? I mean, were were at the _Improv_, but you didn't even crack a smile in there," he added.

"I failed to understand the stories being told, Doctor."

McCoy eyed him thoughtfully, then nodded sagely.

"You know what your problem is, Spock? You analyze things to death."

"Do I?"

"He's got a point, Spock," Jim said. "You see, humor isn't logical. On the contrary; humor thrives on the absurd."

Spock frowned over this.

"Next time you hear a joke," Jim said, "Don't stop to analyze why it should make you laugh; just try to feel it in your gut."

"My gut?" Spock asked, instinctively glancing at his abdominal area. He pondered this for a moment, then shook his head. "I do not believe I could laugh at what currently passes for _humor, _Captain."

"You're a snob."

"A snob?"

"What about tickling?" McCoy said then, "Vulcans and humans have the same nerve ends and muscles, don't they?" He glanced up and down at Spock. "Theoretically, _I _could make you laugh."

"Theoretically," Spock admitted, very discreetly putting some distance between the Doctor and himself. "But tickling a Vulcan would merely force a physiological reaction out of him, Doctor. It would not be the spontaneous reaction you seek."

"Never mind what I'm seeking," McCoy retorted. "What do you say, Jim?" he added, his eyes still on Spock, "Should I give it a try?" He glanced at Jim, who shook his head.

"I'm staying out of this, Bones."

"Some friend," McCoy scoffed. He looked back at Spock, who was eyeing him warily now, "It's ok, Spock; I'm not going to tickle you today. The element of surprise is gone."

Spock visibly relaxed. "Doctor, if I may; why are you so interested in seeing me laugh?"

"No reason in particular. Maybe I'm just tired of seeing you pissed off all the time."

"I'm not 'pissed off', Doctor. I am, on the contrary, quite content with my surroundings."

"Are you?" McCoy said, pretending surprise, "Well, it's kind of hard to tell with those eyebrows of yours."

"My eyebrows?" Spock repeated, honestly surprised.

"Yeah. They make you look like you're supremely pissed off. Why did Vulcan eyebrows evolved the way they did, Spock? Was it to induce mortal terror in your enemies, perhaps?"

"I -" Spock was at a loss for words.

"Ever wonder what you'd look like with human eyebrows, Spock?"

"Human...?" Spock stopped. Literally. Jim didn't stop but he slowed down. The only one who went on was McCoy, too immersed in his thoughts to notice.

"Or what you'd look like with a human haircut, for that matter? I can picture it;" he added, his eyes taking on a dreamy look; "Spock, with hair parted in the middle... Spock, with curly hair -just like Chekhov's! Spock, with Uhura's pony-tail; Spock, with no hair at all! Spock, in a -" SPLAT!

The fall was spectacular.

One second the doctor was talking loudly, making grand gestures with his hands, then the next he was practically flying in the air, having unwittingly stepped on a wet spot.

The fall was so exquisitely executed -so much better than those phony falls staged by some of the comedians early on- that Jim's first thought was that McCoy had simply faked the whole thing. He'd even snickered at the sight of McCoy, lying on his back, looking confused.

It wasn't till he noticed that McCoy wasn't moving that he started to wonder if it was for real.

"Bones? You ok?"

"Do I look like I'm ok?" McCoy growled. He tried to sit up but his hands kept slidding off. "Oh, crap!" He looked up, "Well? Are you gonna help me or what?"

"Sure," Jim said. "Just let me enjoy this for a moment. What do you say, Spock?" Jim glanced around. "Spock?"

But Spock didn't reply. He couldn't; not with his jaws closed shut. There was a weird gurgling sound coming from his throat, and by the look in his face, it was obvious the Vulcan was desperately trying to stifle it.

Suddenly he started to shake.

"Bones! Quick! I think Spock's having a seizure!"

"Hello?" McCoy said, still lying on the ground. "I need a hand here!"

Jim hesitated for a few precious seconds till he realized that to help Spock he ought to rescue Bones first. He rushed to McCoy and offered him a hand, but unfortunately McCoy pulled at it before Jim had enough leverage.

Jim felt his feet start to slid under him.

"Wait, Bones; I need to- BONES, WAIT! -" It was too late. He slipped and unceremoniously fell on his butt, right on the wettest spot. Mud splashed everywhere.

"Damn it, Jim!"

Jim tried to get up but his legs were entangled with McCoy's. "Damn it, Bones, let go of -"

A sudden noise cut him short; faint but persistent, it sounded eerily like steam hissing from a teapot.

"Look!" Jim said, pointing at Spock.

Stifling the gurgling must have done some damage to Spock's throat. How else to explain the awful noises he was making now? And his face had undergone a change, too; it had turned a shade darker. And that wasn't all; his nostrils were flaring, his eyes were watering, and his jaw was moving frantically, as if the bones were suddenly loose and he were desperately trying to hold them together inside his mouth. He gulped noisily a couple of times, snorted, and finally turned his back on Jim and the doctor.

Jim gaped.

"What the hell's wrong with him?"

"Son of a bitch!" Bones hissed. "HE'S LAUGHING AT US!"

Jim looked incredulously. "Spock? Laughing?"

The Vulcan finally stopped shaking. He took a couple of deep breaths before he deigned to turn back, and when he did, he was the same old Spock. A bit breathless, but dignified as ever.

"Spock!"

"Yes, Captain?"

"GET US OUT OF HERE!"

"Right away, Captain." And he set out to do it methodically; he gathered branches and rocks and piled them around his friends so they could have something to hold on to while he pulled them up.

Finally free, McCoy dusted himself off, which only ended up distributing the mud more evenly on his clothes. He glared at Spock.

"The least you could have done was laugh out loud!" he said indignantly. "It would have been less painful to watch, too!"

Spock didn't comment.

"At least I proved my point," McCoy said, smugly.

"Which point would that be, Doctor?"

"I got to make you laugh."

"I beg your pardon, Doctor; I most certainly did not laugh."

"Oh, come on -"

"I believe I may be allergic to certain components of this mud," Spock said.

"Oh, that's a crock -"

"Your fall must have activated elements that had lain undisturbed for a long time, Doctor; an occurrence that might be compared to an ecological catastrophe -"

"Oh, shut up!" McCoy glared. "Ecological catastrophe, my ass. You just don't want to admit it, do you? But that's all right; _I _saw it! And Jim saw it too! Ha! You were laughing and that's that!" and he turned and went on his way, ranting and muttering and gesturing.

Watching him go, Jim muttered, "He's gonna slip again." He glanced at Spock. "And you were laughing, Mister."

"Was I?" Spock asked innocently.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Jim added, "You didn't laugh at the best comedy sketches of the year, yet a simple fall got to you. That's the lowest form of comedy there is, you know."

"Is it?" Spock asked casually, "Well, I for one found it most agreeable to watch, Captain. But perhaps the _performers_ had something to do with it."

Jim narrowed his eyes.

"Are you including me in that performance, _Mr_. Spock?"

But Spock was already walking away, shoulders shaking slightly.

* * *

The end


End file.
